Devil's Pawn
by Carabiner Boy
Summary: Only days after recovering from his near-fatal injury, Alex Rider is pulled back into the fold. But is this mission really what it seems? Alex has to find out- the fate of the world depends on it. text is a little screwed up, but PLEASE R&R!


DEVIL'S PAWN

An Alex Rider Adventure

CHAPTER ONE: Devils and Donuts

Paris, France

January 3, 2005

The men gathered around the large oak table were

totally silent. Not a cough escaped their lips, no

creak was heard from the chairs they were seated in.

You could say this was out of respect for the man who

had just spoken, but in truth it was only because they

could think of absolutely nothing to say. The man at

the head of the table had just spoken. How were they

to respond to what had been said?

Finally someone broke the silence. "Alex Rider lives?"

The man nodded, unfazed by the bluntness of Levi

Kroll's question. Kroll was, by nature, blunt, and

unafraid to ask the hard questions. But now his

normally domineering voice had lost an ounce of its

conceit. The empty space was filled by shock.

"Yes," the man, known only as Dr. Three, responded.

"We have just received the intelligence. From our

insider, naturally."

"That is... most unfortunate." This was voiced with an

Australian accent. Dr. Three gazed across the table at

the man who had spoken. An Australian, obviously, but

one who had long ago disbanded the name he had been

given. Not much was known about him, only that he was

rich, driven, and an active terrorist. "How did it

happen?"

A black man, one with eyes from Japan and one tooth

cut from diamond, coughed and leaned forward. "The

bullet was blocked by a rib. Being of low caliber, it

did not penetrate." His voice was Japanese, as well.

"But Mr. Mikato, this is disgraceful!" Kroll

announced. "How can Scorpia be properly feared when

our own sniper cannot act out revenge?" Grinding his

teeth, the Israeli sat back. His beard was flecked

with spittle.

The black man began to rebut the attack, but Three

held up his hands for silence. "Gentleman, please. I

have good news. Our informant had good information to

go with the bad. In light of this information I have

formulated a plan that will solve both the problem of

Mr. Rider and supply us with a large amount of money."

"What is this plan you speak of?" asked Mr. Mikato.

Dr. Three allowed a rare smile to come across his

lips. "I have taken the liberty of naming it Devil's

Pawn..."

Sleep didn't come easily to Alex Rider. The pain in

his chest was immeasurable, and whenever he rolled

over it sent spasms through his body. The fact that

his temporary bed was a small cot didn't help matters,

either. It was because of this that he awoke

frequently during the night. But sunlight spilled in

through the hospital window, and the digital clock on

the bedside table read 7:32. A full night's sleep,

Alex thought. Amazing.

He rubbed his eyes, careful not to bring up his left

arm too quickly. He had done it enough times to know

that quick movement was not worth the amount of pain

it inflicted.

He contemplated calling a nurse, but quickly thought

better of it. They were too doting. He had been here

for only a week, and already he was tired of them. He

could get his own breakfast.

His mind made up, he stood from the bed and pulled on

the hospital robe, almost crying out as his chest

spasmed. Best not wake his roommate, though. She had

been mumbling to herself for some time now, and Alex

was perfectly happy not to get to know her. She should

be in the mental ward, after all, not recovery. Or

maybe mumbling was part of her recovery...

Alex pocketed a few quid and stepped out of his room.

The hall was empty, save for the empty stretchers that

lined its walls. He turned left and started walking,

careful to go slowly. The vending machines were

somewhere around here.

There. Alex trudged over to the machines and used the

money to buy himself an orange juice and a candy bar.

Breakfast is served...

He walked back to the room. He was almost at the

doorway when something caught his eye. A foot, one

that was attached to a leg... He knew that leg.

Alex stepped inside. "Hello, Mrs. Jones."

The deputy head of MI6 Special Operations turned to

him. "Good morning, Alex," she said, picking up a box

from the bedside table. "I brought you some donuts."

"I've got my breakfast already, thanks," Alex said

bluntly, beginning to unwrap his candy bar. It was

obvious Mrs. Jones was trying to be nice, but things

had changed since his would-be death. He felt unsafe

around the people from MI6. Though he knew Scorpia

thought he was dead, something told him that it was

unwise to remain in contact with the intelligence

agency. However, when they showed up in his hospital

room with a box full of donuts he couldn't exactly

throw them out.

She sighed. "It seems like you're recovering well."

The teenager nodded and took a bite of the chocolate.

It was good, however much it hurt him to chew. "Yeah,

I guess. The movie on television last night was

horrible, though. All about some talking dog. I mean,

who the hell cares about a talking dog?" He fell into

silence, confused by his own sarcasm. Was it the pain

that was making him short-tempered? Pain was good, he

reminded himself. Pain meant he was alive.

But was life better than death?

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his head aching.

There was a long silence. Finally Mrs. Jones broke it,

and the mystery of her appearance was put to rest.

"Mr. Blunt would like to see you. When you've

recovered more, of course."

Alex muttered an obscenity. He wanted to see him?

After all that had happened? After he had come so

close to death because of the work that they had

forced him into? Christ, it was a crime...

Mrs. Jones coughed, bringing him back to reality.

"Alex?" He looked up. She was holding out a cell

phone, one of the late model ones with touch screen

buttons and a digital camera. "I know how you feel...

but he just wants to talk. Give him that, at least."

Her voice sounded sympathetic, and he caught himself

wondering how anyone could be sympathetic towards

MI6's head of Special Ops.

"We'll call you in a few weeks, Alex. After you've had

a little more time." Another awkward silence; Alex

fiddled with the phone. She stood up and shrugged on

her coat, walking to the door. "I hope you'll come in.

We may need you."

Need me? He thought, pulling up Tetris from the games

menu. You needed me before. That's why I'm in the hospital.


End file.
